


Life Has Just Begun

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Community: hp_goldenage, Homophobic Slurs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Romance, closeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-30 13:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13952223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: Harry has been carrying the weight of his secret desires for a long time. Severus is there when he’s finally ready to talk.





	Life Has Just Begun

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods for running this delightful fest, which is always so much fun. Thanks to A for the beta read. Any remaining mistakes are my own. The quote at the start is from singer-songwriter and activist Melissa Etheridge’s ‘Silent Legacy’ and the title is from Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, which has been interpreted as Freddie Mercury’s coming out song.

*

_and as you pray in your darkness_  
_for wings to set you free_  
_you are bound to your silent legacy_

*

“Do you ever think how different life might be, if only you allowed yourself to live it?”

“Your question seems to assume I’m wanting.” Severus gestures to the cosy living room with its haphazard stacks of books and the crackling fire. “Yet I’m quite content.” Severus is surprised to find he means it. After enduring years of Ministry subordinates whispering about his past, Severus is finally at a point of financial self-sufficiency which will enable him to live for at least another fifty years in relative comfort. Now he can pick and choose the paid work he takes on, and spends his days researching, writing and developing new potions. In truth, there’s nothing else he would rather do in the latter years of his life.

Of course, if someone had told Severus he would be spending a portion of his retirement enjoying conversing with Harry Potter over a bottle of Burgundy, he wouldn’t have believed it. Yet Harry turned out to be something of a surprise. A much more appealing man than child, Harry is the singular most unexpected thing about old age and one of the few people Severus allows to pull him away from his books on occasion. A tacit understanding developed between them during years at the Ministry, and professional civility took a surprising shift towards tentative friendship when Harry began paying weekly visits to Severus at home. 

Severus watches Harry put down his wine and rub his jaw, his mind seemingly elsewhere. “You think I haven’t been living precisely as I wish?” 

“I’m not talking about you.” Harry stares morosely into the distance. His mood has been peculiar for weeks and Severus hates an unsolved mystery.

“What part of your life unlived is causing you such concern?” Severus watches Harry tapping his fingers on his jeans and the flex and twist of his hands as he curls them into balled fists and releases them again, wiping them on his trousers as if his palms are clammy.

“I’m fifty years old, Severus.” Harry sits back in his seat and gives Severus an odd look. He has been more fixated than usual on age, which is ludicrous as Harry is still full of youthful athleticism and boundless energy. Severus has little doubt Harry will comfortably surpass the 137-year average life expectancy for wizards, which means he still has more than another full life to live.

“Is there a reason you’re telling me things I already know?” Severus is all too aware of Harry’s age. He went to the appallingly sentimental effort of purchasing a gift for the significant milestone birthday. He shudders at the memory of multiple Weasleys staring at him as Harry opened his gift. It only got worse when Harry cajoled him into eating chocolate cake while Arthur looked on with barely concealed bemusement. It was most undignified. 

“I’m fifty years old and my life is nothing like I thought it would be,” Harry says. He pushes his glasses onto his nose and his expression is more serious than usual. 

If anything, Harry has become even more handsome with age. In his teens his features reminded Severus too much of James Potter’s broad, arrogant smile and the familiar green of Harry’s eyes sent guilt worming through Severus with every disgruntled stare and fiery confrontation. In his twenties Harry was full of exuberance, but it was marred by anger and conflict as he tried to find his place in the world after the collapse of his short-lived marriage and a post-war mental health crisis. There was a transience to Harry in those years. A desperate embrace of the kind of self-destructive hedonism that made Severus wonder if Harry would survive into the next decade. The tumult of his twenties and constant press attention on Potter’s surprising embrace of bachelorhood lent an unexpected seriousness to his face during his thirties. Harry lost weight to the point of being a slip of thing, with darkness under his eyes and shadows accentuating the sharp slope of his cheeks. It was only in his mid-forties that Potter seemed to finally grow into himself. His face filled out a little again, and his hair took on pleasing flecks of grey. His eyes regained the fight and fire which made Severus think of Hogwarts during a stifling summer, dusty rooms and preparing for battle.

“You have ample opportunity to change your life, if you’re so unhappy with your current lot.” Severus has often wondered why Harry didn’t settle down with another witch after his divorce. Although Severus is quick to extol the benefits of single life, he always found it a surprising path for Potter who seems to thrive when he’s surrounded by friends, cooing over Weasley babies and making them gurgle with pleasure when he gives them new magical toys. Severus takes a careful sip of his wine. He dearly hopes Potter isn’t about to start seeking advice on his love life. Severus can’t abide uncomfortable situations and he’s woefully ill-equipped to offer advice on matters of the heart.

“I thought I would be married, with children.” Harry’s jaw works. 

“You can still do that.” His curiosity piqued, Severus chooses his words carefully. “I’m astonished that you haven’t already done so.”

Harry rubs the scar on his forehead. “I learned soon after marrying Ginny that it wasn’t going to be that simple.”

“No?” Severus is starting to worry Harry has some issues with fertility or erectile dysfunction. He wants to converse about Potter’s private parts even less than he cares to converse about matters of the heart.

“There was a time when I wasn’t afraid of anything.”

“You’re one of the most recklessly brave individuals I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.” Severus turns his eyes heavenward. “If Harry Potter is starting to doubt his courage, there’s no hope for the rest of us.”

Harry laughs, but there’s little humour in it. He shakes his head. “What would you think if I told you I’ve been lying to everyone for most of my life?”

Severus purses his lips. “I would find it difficult to believe.”

“Oh.” Harry runs a hand through his hair, looking away. After a pause which is broken only by the incessant ticking of Severus’ carriage clock – a gift to mark his retirement – Harry speaks again. “I’m not interested in witches. I don’t think I ever have been.”

Severus takes a steadying sip of his drink as a tight heat curls in his chest. Of all the things he expected from Harry, a coming out speech was not one of them. He swallows, his mouth dry. “Omitting to tell the truth is not the same as lying.”

Harry looks up, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. “That’s a very Slytherin distinction.”

Severus smirks at Harry. “I’m a very Slytherin man.”

“Is that all you have to say?” Harry’s cheeks blossom pink and a flicker of uncertainty crosses his features.

“What did you expect me to say?” 

“Nothing, I suppose.” Harry reaches for his wine and Severus snorts under his breath.

“Do you propose to follow this new-found honesty of yours with further evasiveness?”

Harry winces. “Force of habit.” He looks weary and lost. “You’re the only person I’ve told.”

Severus wonders if he should say _I’m honoured_ or offer false platitudes, but social niceties have never been his strong point. “Why?”

Harry swallows, his throat bobbing. “Because I don’t know anybody else like you.”

Severus studies Harry, an unexpected heat prickling on his skin. His stomach swoops and for a brief moment the warm air in the room makes it difficult to breathe. He has lived for so long in contented solitude and is intensely private about personal matters. The idea that Harry might have developed some notion of Severus’ inclinations is surprising, to say the least. Severus isn’t sure how he feels about it. He composes himself until he can answer smoothly, as if Harry’s revelation has had no discernible impact.

“Are you coming out to me, or coming on to me?” Severus asks.

Harry laughs, low in his throat. He gives Severus a wide smile and it’s more disarming than it should be. “It’s been a long time since I came on to anyone. I’m not sure I know how to do that anymore.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Severus rolls his eyes. “Am I to take it that the last person you were intimate with was your wife?”

Harry shakes his head, his gaze warm and bright. “Ex-wife. And no.”

“Then you have some idea what you’re doing after all,” Severus says.

“A bit.” Harry shrugs. “I don’t have a lot of experience with romance.”

Severus eyes the bottle of wine between them and arches an eyebrow at Harry. “Am I being romanced?”

Harry takes a breath, giving Severus a careful look. “Would you be offended if you were?”

“Not offended. Surprised, perhaps. I’m more curious to understand why you would choose this evening for soul-baring, when there have been countless other opportunities.” It’s a genuine question. This Friday seems no different to any other Friday, when Harry arrives clutching a different bottle of red wine and asking Severus if he has _any of those brilliant chocolates_. The chocolates Severus continues to keep in stock solely for Harry’s visits, because he’s never seen someone look quite so delighted by a cheap box of Quality Street. 

Harry ponders the question. “I’m not sure. I’ve been trying to tell you for months.”

 _Months_? Severus can’t help but wonder what took Harry so long. “Did you expect an unfavourable reaction?”

“I wasn’t sure what to expect.” Harry licks his lips, his voice quiet. “It went lots of different ways.” He taps his fingers to his temple. “Up here.”

Severus crosses his legs at the ankle and tops up their wine with a flick of his wand, the bottle gliding elegantly across the room. “Tell me.”

“Okay.” Harry takes a gulp of his wine. He’s not one for appreciating subtleties. “Sometimes you were disgusted.” Harry’s smile falters. “I didn’t like those dreams much.”

Severus quells his instinctive response, which is a flush of anger at Harry’s presumptions. Perhaps Potter isn’t the only one who’s changed over the years. Severus is quite sure that in the past he would have considered Harry’s lack of faith a personal attack or a reminder of old prejudice, rather than viewing it as he does now – a product of Potter’s own fears. 

“Is there a reason you thought I might be disgusted?” Severus swirls the wine in the bottom his glass as he waits for Harry to answer. 

“I’ve heard people joke about it,” Harry says. “My aunt and uncle had some views on queers, as Uncle Vernon called them.”

Severus makes a _humph_ of annoyance. It doesn’t escape his notice that Harry hasn’t actually used the word _gay_ yet and he also doesn’t miss the _them_ instead of _us_. Not for the first time, Severus enjoys picturing Petunia and Vernon Dursley spending a hot evening in hell. “Your uncle was a cretin and your aunt an insipid fool. You know enough of misguided prejudice and fear by now to be able to dismiss their opinions as utter bollocks, I hope.”

Harry nods, a smile playing over his lips. He seems to relax at Severus’ words. “I know.” He sits back, expression gloomy again. “It’s not just my aunt and uncle.” 

“Indeed.” Severus is all too aware of prejudice that exists in the wizarding world. He also knows that the tide is turning, although he imagines Harry hasn’t yet found any way to connect the dots between his own private desires and the more visible communities and activism which might be able to offer him some comfort. “I think you will see things begin to change with the next generation. More of my generation and yours opening the closet doors, perhaps.”

“Do you think?” Harry looks thoughtful. “It might help if I spoke publicly.”

“I have no doubt,” Severus replies.

“Not that I feel equipped to speak about much of anything.” Harry glances at Severus. “If I’d spoken out earlier—”

“Then what?” Severus shakes his head because Harry is so bloody noble at times, he wants to shake him. “You’ve already changed the course of the world once. You’re entitled to a private life.”

“Even when a private life could help other people if it became public?”

Severus nods. “Even then. Far better to wait until you are at peace with yourself and your own mind in any event.”

“Speaking out would attract press attention all over again.” Harry frowns. “I haven’t coped very well with that in the past.”

“I remember.” Severus doesn’t like to admit the habit of keeping an eye on foolhardy Gryffindors is one he hasn’t yet managed to break. “Nevertheless, you would go into this with a more solid foundation. The press attention would be courted and controlled for a good cause. After the war you had no control over their attentions. With no media training you were required to deal with the _Prophet_ prying into aspects of your life you clearly needed to come to understand in your own time.”

Harry listens, in a way that still surprises Severus. He seems genuinely interested in the advice Severus has to offer. It’s a peculiar feeling. “It might be hard on a future partner,” Harry says. “Particularly one who values their privacy.”

Severus has the distinct impression he’s being asked a question. He’s almost impressed. He would have expected more of a blunt instrument approach from Potter. Perhaps he’s learning the art of subtlety after all. Severus takes advantage of the momentary lull in conversation to decide how to respond to Harry’s comment. 

“Considering you haven’t told anybody but me of your interests yet, concern for a hypothetical partner seems a little premature.” Severus doesn’t miss the way Harry’s hopeful look turns to disappointment and Severus mutters a curse under his breath. Damn Harry for making him feel things Severus has been quite happy not feeling for years. “However, I can hardly imagine you would choose someone who isn’t well able to handle Rita Skeeter.”

Harry perks up and he smiles around his wine glass as he has another drink. “No. I imagine my _hypothetical partner_ being pretty good at giving someone like Skeeter short shrift.”

Severus can’t resist a smirk. “Then you and he will be adequately matched.” He pauses. “Do any of your scenarios paint me in a more flattering light?”

“Some of them.” Harry gives Severus a grin. “Some of them paint you in a very flattering light indeed.”

Severus has the distinct impression he’s being flirted with. What’s even more unexpected than Harry’s teasing is the fact Severus rather likes it. “I think you should tell me about one of the more complimentary scenarios born out of your feverish imagination, in that case.”

“There’s one I particularly like.” Harry puts his wine down, taking a chocolate and unwrapping it. He chews slowly, before he speaks again. “In this scenario you’re like me too.”

“Like you?” Severus can’t help but push. He wants to hear Harry to say it. He wants him to display the courage Severus knows he has in spades, whatever he might think of himself. No more _them_ instead of _us_. Severus wants him to feel the word on his tongue, to claim it as his own.

“Gay,” Harry says. His voice doesn’t falter, or tremble and his eyes never once leave Severus. “In this scenario you’re gay too. Like me.”

“Imagine that.” Severus waves his hand. “Continue.”

“You kiss me, after I tell you.” Harry fiddles with the sweet wrapper, putting it to one side and looking at Severus once more. “Then you take me to bed.”

Arousal thrums pleasantly through Severus. He’s rather proud of his fortitude when he doesn’t immediately haul Potter out of his chair to start kissing him thoroughly. “Am I typically so forward in your imagination?”

“Yeah.” Harry smiles, his eyes shining. “Very…assertive.”

“How curious.” Severus studies his nails, his heart thrumming in his chest as images rich with possibility run through his mind. Eventually, he looks up. “How long?”

Harry shrugs. He seems to understand instinctively the question being asked of him. Even though all the hints are there, it feels a little presumptuous to ask _how long have you thought of me like that_. “Months. Years, really. The odd fantasy I didn’t recognise for what it was, when I was younger. I just thought it was part and parcel of normal, heterosexual teenage hormones.”

Severus laughs. “Thinking about members of staff may well have been just that. Thinking about _me_ can hardly be described as normal, and that has nothing to do with my gender.” He sobers. “I was not kind to you.”

Harry considers the response. “Back then I don’t think I was looking for kind.”

“Nevertheless, there were plenty of young men who I’m sure would have made far more suitable prospective suitors.”

Harry sighs. “I wasn’t looking for suitors, either.” He gives Severus a small smile. “Straight, remember?”

“Hmm.” Severus nods. “Come, come. You must have some idea what you’re looking for. I can’t imagine you have a Death Eater fetish like some I’ve had the misfortune of meeting.”

“God.” Harry rolls his eyes. “Really?”

“Sadly, yes.” Severus strokes his finger over his lips and waits for Harry to answer his earlier question.

“I don’t know why it was always you,” Harry says. The _always_ takes Severus by surprise but he keeps quiet, letting Harry continue. “You’ve always made me feel safe, even when you’re being an arse. It’s like you keep things balanced, just by swooping around all buttoned up and being a dick to people.”

Severus huffs. “You really haven’t done this in some time, have you?”

Harry grins. “Have I offended you?”

Severus shakes his head. “Not particularly. You have a peculiar knack for making insults sound charming.”

Harry looks pleased with himself. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me charming before.”

“I imagine not. You can consider it a sign of my senility and never speak of it again.” Severus is satisfied when Harry laughs, deep and warm. Harry doesn’t have the slick, oily charm of Lucius Malfoy or the false charm of Lockhart. It’s perhaps why Severus finds him so endearing in the first place. Harry’s unawareness of his own attractiveness and his inability to see himself as charming is precisely how he becomes so.

Harry’s easy smile falters. “I can’t say I’m happy about inviting scrutiny from the press again. There was a time I thought I might lose myself completely.”

“I didn’t expect you to see thirty,” Severus confesses. The thought of losing Harry sends a jolt of fear through him and despite his earlier assurances about taking one’s time, he wishes Harry had spoken to him sooner. He knows all too well how years of closeting and isolation can lead to bitterness, anger and futile attempts to change something that cannot be altered. He was young too, once. Young, scared and making all the wrong choices. 

“Neither did I.” Harry runs his tongue over his lips as if his mouth is dry. “Part of me couldn’t see a future.”

Severus nods. He remembers the searing pain of snake venom running through his veins and he rubs his fingers against his neck. He understands wanting to succumb to the darkness all too well, and yet it still surprises him to hear his suspicions confirmed and to know without question that Harry had those moments of wanting to become another shadow, another ghost or echo. 

“And now?” Severus watches Harry rise to his feet. 

“Now I want to live, more than anything. I don’t want time to run on without me.” Harry seems uncertain about his next move. “Severus?”

“Yes?” Severus pushes himself to his feet, closing the distance between he and Harry. Nervous energy radiates from Harry in waves. The pulse of Harry’s magic is so familiar to Severus by now and he wonders when that happened – when the shift occurred between them so naturally he never even noticed. 

“You know what I’m asking you,” Harry says. His expression is serious, but hopeful. A peculiar warmth courses through Severus and something he hasn’t felt for a very long time settles hot and unexpected in his chest. His heart thuds and he wants to say _I’m too old for this_. He’s comfortable and content. He’s not a man who relishes the thought of opening his private space to someone else, particularly not somebody who lives in the goldfish bowl Harry has had to become accustomed to. He could live the rest of his years quite happily without a partner and all the highs and lows that come with a new romance.

“I do know what you’re asking.” Severus brushes his fingers against Harry’s arm. “I’m considering my answer.”

Harry takes a breath and gives Severus a sheepish smile. “I’ve dumped everything on you at once. We could pick this up again next Friday?”

“That might be best.” Severus’ voice catches which is so utterly unlike him, it’s embarrassing. He moves his hand to Harry’s cheek. It’s hot beneath his palm and Harry’s eyes close, his face taking on a look of such contentment Severus isn’t sure he’s deserving of it. “I’m not saying no.”

“I know.” Harry leans in and presses a kiss to Severus’ cheek. The touch lingers, and Harry smells divine. Severus keeps him close for a minute, drinking in his warmth and the strong undercurrent of his magic. “Friday, then.” Harry pulls back, and he gives Severus a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Severus swallows. He watches Harry grab a fistful of Floo powder and all the bad decisions he’s made career through his mind. The sense of being caught up in one specific, important moment in time builds to a crescendo and it makes every part of Severus too hot. After over seventy years of living, Severus knows himself too well. He knows how easy it would be after a week of careful thought to turn away from opportunities offered in a misguided attempt to protect himself from scrutiny, ridicule or heartache. “Wait.” Severus flicks his wand, muttering a spell to close the Floo. 

Harry turns, his hand clenching tighter around the powder in his palm. “I’m waiting.” He nods at the Floo, his voice a little rough. “Can’t do much until you lift those wards, anyway.”

“I don’t suppose you can.” Severus catches Harry’s wrist, his movements instinctive. He searches Harry’s face. The open honesty of his gaze. The laughter lines and the strong set of his jaw. The light stubble on his chin, the messy tangle of his dark hair and the nervous energy which fills the space between them. He sighs, tugging Harry closer until they’re toe-to-toe. He taps his wand to Harry’s clenched fist so the Floo powder disappears entirely, pocketing his wand after the spell is cast. He doesn’t miss the shiver of pleasure that travels through Harry’s body or the way he responds to Severus’ magic. It’s impossible to miss the way Harry’s now empty hand twists into the fabric of Severus’ shirt, almost as if the movement is automatic. “Foolish boy.”

“Am I?” Harry sounds breathless, his cheeks pink. He’s not a boy anymore, not really. Yet there’s part of Severus that will always think of Harry that way. The same part of him that conceded to working alongside Harry instead of against him, when he was given that option so long ago. Severus slips his hands to Harry’s waist and remembers the promise he made so long ago to keep him safe. He wonders when _for her_ became _for him_ and can’t help but suspect that it’s been Harry for a very long time.

“You are as foolish as anyone I’ve ever met.” Severus slides Harry’s glasses from his face, holding them between his fingers. The _foolish_ sounds like a term of endearment more than a condemnation, and Severus strokes his free hand against the nape of Harry’s neck. “You have so many options. It seems you are, once again, inclined to do things the difficult way.”

“I like a challenge,” Harry says. He grins and blinks at Severus. He looks different without his glasses. More vulnerable, somehow and yet still ineffably Harry. Severus can still see his bitter past in Harry’s eyes, but the years between then and now stretch out between them and there’s a softness in the way Harry looks at Severus. A hopefulness which sparks something jealous and possessive inside Severus. He knows with absolute certainty he doesn’t want Harry to put his trust in the wrong person. He doesn’t want another man to be on the receiving end of Harry’s attentions. 

“We make no sense at all,” Severus says.

“I think we make perfect sense.” Harry juts his chin, defiance and fire in his expression. “Look at me and tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Severus rubs his thumb against Harry’s neck, their bodies pressing together with ease. 

Severus isn’t sure who instigates the kiss. Perhaps it’s neither one of them – just the pulse of energy between them drawing them into one another’s arms. Severus hasn’t properly kissed a man for a very long time. He has his needs, but kissing isn’t usually high on the list of his brief encounters. He prefers the anonymity of Muggle saunas and the casual ease of divorcing sex from emotion. It’s impossible to do that, with Harry. There’s a fierce, possessive ball of desire which flexes and pulses inside his chest. His hands twist jealously into Harry’s hair, hating every previous man and woman whose fingers stroked against Harry’s scalp or idly played with the coarse strands. His lips trace an eager, damp path along the line of Harry’s jaw and over the pulse-point on his neck, his mouth and teeth nipping and sucking when he imagines other lips on Harry’s skin. Severus is a little old for love-bites and quick handjobs up against the wall, but there’s something about being with Harry that takes him back to a different time.

Harry’s kisses are no more tentative. He kisses like a man starved, the strong length of his body pressing into Severus and his hands sliding over every inch of Severus’ body as if Harry wants to leave no part untouched. It’s like he’s trying to cram every kiss he missed into the one moment of fire and fight between them. Their lips connect again, breath hot and ragged and lips saying everything that’s too great and complex to put into words. Severus pulls back after indulging himself in another biting, desperate kiss to find Harry’s eyes wild and his hair askew.

“Is that a yes?” Even looking as debauched as he does, Harry can manage a lazy smile as he begins to unbutton Severus’ shirt. “Tell me it’s a yes.”

“Do you really need me to say as much?” Severus stills Harry’s hands as he works at the buttons. “My early years were not kind to me, and I don’t have anything resembling a young man’s body.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Does this still work okay?” He squeezes his fingers around Severus’ cock.

Severus growls and pushes Harry’s hand away, walking him back until he’s pressed against the wall. “Of course it still works, you impertinent brat.”

“Well, then. What’s the problem?” Harry grins at Severus and returns to the shirt, unplucking the buttons with ease. “Gorgeous.” He meets Severus’ gaze, running his tongue over his lips as his voice takes on a rough cadence. “I think you’ll always be gorgeous to me. Even if you’re one hundred and eighty.”

Severus laughs at that, helping Harry to tug off his jumper. “Without your glasses you’re like a short-sighted kneazle. I’m afraid your compliments can’t be trusted.”

“They can, actually.” Harry glares at Severus. He flicks his hand and his glasses swoop onto his face in an effortless display of magic. It sends another rush of desire through Severus as Harry blinks at him, a smile playing over his lips. “Yep. Still gorgeous.”

“Welcome to senility, Potter.” Severus taps a finger to Harry’s temple. “Now you’re fifty, it’s all downhill from here.”

“What a pity.” Harry leans back against the wall, sending his glasses off to a hopefully safe location. He takes Severus’ hand and places it over the pleasing bulge in his trousers. “At least my cock’s still working. Like yours.”

“What good fortune.” Severus unbuttons Harry’s trousers, lowering the zip. He pushes his hand inside Harry’s boxers and allows himself to indulge in the sight of Harry half undressed, with his neck exposed as he leans back against the wall. He really is quite glorious when he’s caught in a moment of pleasure. Severus is determined to see more of Harry in this kind of state. “As we’re clearly losing our marbles, perhaps we should put the working parts of our body to good use before they fail us too?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea.” Harry’s voice is ragged, his cock thick in Severus’ fist. He pushes forward and groans. “Are you going to take me to bed or do I have to make you fuck me up against this wall?”

The wall does sound somewhat appealing, but Severus can’t be bothered to work out if their height would allow for a satisfactory shag in that position. “Bed, I think.”

“Easier on the knees, too.” Harry winks at Severus and pushes off the wall. 

“I appreciate your concern for my joints.” Severus rolls his eyes and stalks through the house as quickly as possible.

“My joints too. Now I’m fifty I need to think about these things.” Harry strips off the rest of his clothes and stretches out on the bed. 

“You may be fifty, but you still seem eminently capable of behaving like a horny teenager.” Despite his words, Severus also does an embarrassingly quick job of disrobing.

“I’m not sure that was a compliment, but I’m taking it as one.” Harry pulls Severus into a kiss and rocks up into him, his hands sliding down Severus’ back. “Hello again.”

“Hmm.” Severus kisses away any further inane commentary from Harry’s lips. When a whispered plea leaves Harry’s lips, he slides down the bed and takes Harry into his throat. Severus knows he’s good at this. He enjoys tasting someone new for the first time and Harry’s prick is mouth-watering. Severus can’t help but groan around Harry as he presses his fingers into Harry’s thighs, hard enough to bruise. He works over Harry, slipping off him only for long enough to murmur a spell which leaves his fingers slick with lube. As Harry hisses and gasps, Severus returns to his task and slowly pushes a slick finger into Harry. He’s so tight and hot, his body welcoming Severus even as he pumps his hips up and grinds back onto the bed. It’s almost too much, watching Harry come apart. His skin is hot and salty with light beads of perspiration. His cock is a glorious, heavy weight which slides between Severus’ lips. His hands clutch onto the sheets and they twist in response to every stroke of Severus’ fingers inside him. Severus expects Harry to last for a far longer time than he does, which is why the pulse of Harry in his mouth takes him somewhat by surprise. He swallows every last drop of Harry’s climax and pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and watching the rise and fall of Harry’s chest as he gets his breath back.

“It’s not usually quick.” Harry laughs, rueful and shaky. “It’s usually the opposite of quick, these days.”

“It was hardly _quick_.” The ache in Severus’ jaw can attest to that. It wasn’t the premature climax of a man in his late teens or young twenties, but it also didn’t take the time Severus would have expected.

“I haven’t really done some of that before.” Harry removes his arm from his eyes and looks at Severus, reaching for him.

“Ah.” Severus slips under the duvets next to Harry. His arousal is dulling a little, but he isn’t concerned. He’s had plenty of erotic encounters which have been about getting to the end goal as quickly as possible. He’s rather enjoying experiencing the intimacies of being touched in places other than those designed to induce climax and the sheer pleasure of being naked in bed with a partner who isn’t waiting to leave. “Which parts were new?”

“Your fingers.” Harry’s cheek is hot when Severus rubs a thumb against it. “I have some experience with men, but I was always scared of taking that step.”

“Because it didn’t appeal?” Severus asks.

“No, it appeals.” Harry winces. “I never really explored it, because I used to think doing things like that would make me gay.”

Severus fights back a sigh and mentally curses the Dursleys again. “Having a preference for men and no interest in women makes you gay. I assume you’re aware that having a prick up your arse does not make you gay, any more than an unexpected night with Rosemerta makes me heterosexual?”

“I know that now. I just spent a long time telling myself certain things, so I could carry on pretending to be somebody I’m not.”

Severus nods. “I have some experience with that.” 

Harry narrows his eyes at Severus. “Madame Rosemerta from the Three Broomsticks?”

“The very same.”

“Wow.” Harry pokes Severus in the belly. “Well, I’m not drinking in there with you if you’re going to be giving her the eye all the time.”

Severus catches Harry’s hand and squeezes it. “You have little to fear on that count. I’m _gay_ , Harry. Not bisexual or heterosexual. My preference is exclusively for men, irrespective of a sexual experience which stands contrary to that. You are no less gay for denying yourself the pleasure of certain acts.”

“Thank you.” Harry gives Severus a warm smile. He brushes his fingers across Severus’ stomach. “I’d prefer not to deny myself any pleasures anymore. I don’t want to deny you, either.”

Severus makes a non-committal sound. “There are many intimacies I have denied myself over the years. They are simply not sexual ones.”

“Oh.” Harry gives Severus a slow kiss, before pulling back. “I think I’m good at that stuff. I can help with those _intimacies_ and you can help with the sex.”

The corner of Severus’ mouth twitches into a smile. “Perhaps we’re well matched after all.”

“Of course we are.” Harry runs his fingers lower and Severus bites back a groan as he pushes towards Harry’s touch. The urgency from before has dissipated, but there’s something sinfully erotic about the lazy stroke of Harry’s fingers and the way his eyes darken when he looks at Severus. “I can keep your name out of the press. I don’t want to force you into something that turns your life upside down.”

Severus suspects his life was turned upside down from the moment he kissed Harry, but he decides not to say as much out loud. “Potter, I spent a large portion of my own life hiding my true intentions. I have precious little energy left for another bout of elaborate subterfuge.”

“I wish—” Harry’s face twists, his forehead settling into a frown. “I wish I could start all over again. I’d do things so differently.”

An old anger wells within Severus and he wants to throw furious hexes at everybody who whispered and sniggered about same-sex desire in Harry’s presence. “Longing for Time Turners is a fool’s errand. Doing so will only serve to keep you clinging on to the past. There is nothing to be gained from neglecting the future.”

“You’re surprisingly wise.” Harry grins at Severus and he stretches out on the bed. He’s scars from battles Severus doesn’t remember, laughter lines from jokes Severus never heard and grey hair from the years that stretch behind them. He’s stronger than anyone Severus has known, and a far better man than he seems to believe himself to be. It would be all too easy to drink in Harry and long for a past they can never have – a futile attempt to undo things already etched into the fabric of time. “I hate thinking about what might have been.”

“Regrets serve little purpose.” Severus lets Harry move over him, taking in the flex of his arms and the dark sea-green of his gaze. “I would prefer to focus on the present and then the rest will follow.”

“The immediate present?” Harry presses a kiss to Severus’ chest, his lips seeking out the spots which make Severus grunt and groan with pleasure. “I like that idea.”

“Well, then.” Severus pulls Harry into a searching kiss which leaves them both breathless.

“I’m ready to start living,” Harry says. There’s a sadness in his words, but they’re etched with the hopeful optimism that’s so intrinsic to everything Harry does. “Finally.”

“Better late than never,” Severus says. 

Severus closes his eyes and bathes in the heat of Harry’s kisses. The careful touch warms his aching bones and weathered skin like sunrise on a hot summer’s day.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a part of an anonymous fest and the creator will be revealed no later than March 30. Please comment here or at [our community on Dreamwidth.](https://hp-goldenage.dreamwidth.org/61567.html) Thanks! ♥


End file.
